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Thursday, August 14, 2008

Wires and Veins

Throbbing, the life in my veins,pulsing with data streaming unknown,in wires buried bellow the dead man’s grave.The corpse-like towers shouldering the power grid;current surging overhead to light up distant suburbs,bringing to life the lights, the ovens, the heaters-while the dead still lie cold below.

The windows gaping curious at my grey baggage,the blind weather dictating my daily wear;my washing machine setting the shade of my white.Deep inside this polluted air of indifference,my lungs stain with blood the hanging curtains of rain,yet I shy from the needles, and rather take the pen,my ink bleeding over countless pregnant thoughts.

Throbbing, the silence in my veins,charting freedom over dissimilar railway lines;so many embracing the global emptiness.